Hey Porter
(johnny cash)
(c) - (g) - (f)
(c) hey, porter, hey porter! would you tell me the (f) time?
(c) how much longer will it be til we cross that (g) mason dixon line? (c)
At daylight would you tell the engineer to slow it (f) down;
Or better still, just stop the train cause I (g) wanna look a (c) round.
Hey, porter! hey porter! what time did you say ?
How much longer will it be till I can see the light of day ?
When we hit dixie would ya tell the engineer to ring his bell;
And tell everybody that aint asleep to stand right up and yell.
Hey, porter! hey, porter! please, go on and get my bags for me,
I dont need nobody to tell me now that Im in tennessee.
Were not so far from home, you know, and its a-getting light outside
This old train is a-puffin smoke and I have to strain in my eyes
Hey porter! hey porter! please open up the door.
When they stop this train Im gonna get off first cause I cant wait no more.
Tell the engineer I say, thanks a lot. and I didnt mind the fare.
Im gonna set my feet on southern soil, Im gonna breathe the southern air.
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Maria Elena
(Bobby Ray Appleberry, William Cuomo)
Johnny Porter was the oldest in his family
And I remember he was almost twenty one
Y'know I can't quite explain the situation
But he broke into his father's truck and stole a gun
Mother running down the highway screaming
Johnny it's too bad, oh it's too and it's bad
And it's too bad
Well, his father wonders where he got the money
And he wonders if he got it right or wrong
Then Johnny killed a man in Pensacola, Florida
And he caught a freight train and and took off on the run
Well, run, Johnny, run
They're rolling right behind you
Run, Johnny, run
You know they're gonna find you
You come out late at night, 'cause you're running for your life
Hum, Johnny Porter
Johnny Porter
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, it's a shame the way you make your mother worry
And it's hurts inside to sit and watch her cry
And it will be a long time before she knows the answer
But it won't be long before she will see ya die
Well, I was standing in my front door early this morning
So sad, when I heard my name was said
Johnny Porter was no good than anybody
But I hate to see him throw his life away
Now, run, Johnny, run
They're rolling right behind you
Run, Johnny, run
You know they're gonna find you
You come out late at night, 'cause you're running for your life
Well, Johnny Porter, Johnny Porter
Found him holed up in some dark and dirty building
Heard his mother begging,
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny Porter
(bobby ray appleberry/william cuomo)
Johnny porter was the oldest in his family
And I remember he was almost twenty one
Yknow I cant quite explain the situation
But he broke into his fathers truck and stole a gun
Mother running down the highway screaming
Johnny its too bad, oh its too and its bad
And its too bad
Well, his father wonders where he got the money
And he wonders if he got it right or wrong
Then johnny killed a man in pensacola, florida
And he caught a freight train and and took off on the run
Well, run, johnny, run
Theyre rolling right behind you
Run, johnny, run
You know theyre gonna find you
You come out late at night, cause youre running for your life
Hum, johnny porter
Johnny porter
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, its a shame the way you make your mother worry
And its hurts inside to sit and watch her cry
And it will be a long time before she knows the answer
But it wont be long before she will see ya die
Well, I was standing in my front door early this morning
So sad, when I heard my name was said
Johnny porter was no good than anybody
But I hate to see him throw his life away
Now, run, johnny, run
Theyre rolling right behind you
Run, johnny, run
You know theyre gonna find you
You come out late at night, cause youre running for your life
Well, johnny porter, johnny porter
Found him holed up in some dark and dirty building
Heard his mother begging, please, let johnny go!
Thats when john fired his pistol
As a warning and he said,
I was born to die by the gun
I was born to die by the gun
I was born to die by the gun
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Licence porter
Santosh licence porter
make people happy
wth his song and sairy sally.
Santosh licence porter
as great as Oobbamaa
by his stature
so far as service to
humanity concerned.
Santosh licence porter
is always at the station.
To visit again and again
he called me often.
Santosh licence porter
everybodys friend
everybodys son
As if in the station
he is the moon
he is the sun.
Come to the station
to meet Santosh
how Santosh is there
to enable passenger
to reach their destination.
Santosh is
Santosh and you find
in your village also
if you like to hear song
if you like to make friend
with monk.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Porter
I'd like to be a porter, and always on the run,
Calling out, 'Stand aside!' and asking leave of none.
Shoving trucks on people's toes, and having splendid fun,
Slamming all the carriage doors and locking every one
And, when they asked to be let in, I'd say, 'It can't be done.'
But I wouldn't be a porter if ...
The luggage weighed a ton.
Would you?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rossa Mela Della Sera
rosso il sole
una mela
E sbuccia laria della sera
Che sei sola come me
Lo so dagli occhi
Li porter con me sai
Quando vado via
Lamore che
Disfi e fai
Con le tue mani su di me
Quando vieni e quando vai
Lo so dagli occhi
Li porter con me sai
Quando vado via
Li porter con me sai
x farmi compagnia ye ye ye
Uh uh uh uh con me
Nel cuore e nellanima mia
Uh uh uh uh con me
Rossa mela della sera
Se fossi un lago dilagherei
E se potessi pioverei
Fino in fondo agli occhi tuoi
Come un cielo
Ti porter con me sai
Quando vado via
Ti porter con me sai
x farmi compagnia ye ye ye
Uh uh uh uh con me
Nel cuore e nellanima mia
Uh uh uh uh con me
Ovunque sei
Uh uh uh uh con me
Miele per lanima mia
Uh uh uh uh s con me
Rossa mela della sera
Tu tu tu tu tu
Tu tu tu tu tu
Tu tu tu tu tu
Tu tu tu tu tu
Rossa mela della sera
song performed by by Zucchero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweetness Of Sin
“We suddenly know what heaven we’re in”
is a line first conceived by Cole Porter;
it’s based on a line that he chose to down-water,
“We suddenly know the sweetness of sin.”
Don’t know why Cole Porter decided to alter
a line antinomially apt in its neatness,
foreswearing all heaven for sin and its sweetness
as sure as my middle name warns you I’m Walter.
One more for the road, as once sang Johnnie Mercer,
is great, and you’ll find that the road is much shorter
to sin than to heaven, a meter maid’s quarter
provides enough time if you are not averse, sir.
Beginning beguines is the first step to take
for heaven on earth, not by pouring cold water
on sin as on lyrics was done by Cole Porter
while betting on heaven–a dreadful mistake.
5/9/06
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Researcher of poetry
‘Researcher of poetry’
To be or not to be that is the question
Am I a word junkie or a poetry equestrian?
Riding a rhyme changing the line
To make it look like it was mine
The good Lawrence Durrell was a wordy man
Little about poetry he did understand
Till a woman led him to the Promised Land
Now he’s one of the best in the land
Barrington had a duck-billed Platypus at trinity
With whom he shared a remarkable affinity
The Platypus made Barrington nervous
When he suggested they join the Diplomatic Service
John’s padre was an old sky pilot
Until they clipped his wings
He sits in his garden: writing poetry
Playing guitar, composing songs which he sings
Noel proved he was no coward
He proved he was the brave one
With mad dogs and Englishmen
He went out in the midday sun
Cole Porter said let’s do it let’s fall in love
I said Cole you have had to much porter
I really don’t fancy you, but, if you can wait
To get drunk: I might like a little porter
I did do some research to come up with this prose
I know you’re not happy, and what’s getting up your nose
I am not a researcher I will tell you for free
I may just be a thief of other people’s poetry
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Frinton-on-Sea by Train - The Annual Pilgrimage,1910
When in the large compartment,
Everyone was seated.
And all the luggage loaded,
The family group completed.
Excitement as the train now
Leaves the local station.
Everyone perceiving
A feeling of elation.
The Servants in the Third Class
All with faces radiant,
The train now fairly straining
Up it's first steep gradient.
Smoke rising from the engine,
Through the countryside it races,
Such a rattling and a clattering,
Rhythmic chugging as it paces.
Nurse is quietly rocking baby,
Mother dozing, Father reading.
Children gazing through the window,
Trees and streams seem to be speeding.
Realisation, train is stopping,
Doors are opening, whistles blare,
All alighting from the carriage,
Platforms busy. Great sea air!
Call the porter for the luggage,
What! No luggage, this can't be,
'Did you tip the porter Father? '
Mother calls out nervously.
Father fuming calls the Driver,
Calls ths Station Master too,
Sorry Sir, it's not our doing
We will send it on to you.
Father marching to the taxi,
Mother fretting following along,
Nurse with baby shrieking loudly
Children calling, 'What is wrong? '.
Father should have tipped the porter,
Much more than a farthing's worth,
So he didn't load the luggage,
In the 'First Class' luggage berth.
It arrived early next morning,
By the first train down the track,
So as to the moral of this story,
If you're too mean, watch out Jack!
© Ernestine Northover
This poem was written from a story handed down through the family, and the 'Father' was my husband's Great Grandfather, and it is absolutely true, he was a very mean man. A Farthing being the lowest coinage of that time. We have photos of them all sitting on the sand, in full dress with the ladies in huge feathered hats. A wonderful sight! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Striking
It was a railway passenger,
And he lept out jauntilie.
'Now up and bear, thou stout porter,
My two chattels to me.
'Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red,
And portmanteau so brown:
(They lie in the van, for a trusty man
He labelled them London town
'And fetch me eke a cabman bold,
That I may be his fare, his fare;
And he shall have a good shilling,
If by two of the clock he do me bring
To the Terminus, Euston Square.'
'Now,--so to thee the saints alway,
Good gentleman, give luck, -
As never a cab may I find this day,
For the cabman wights have struck:
And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn,
Or else at the Dog and Duck,
Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin,
The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin
Right pleasantly they do suck.'
'Now rede me aright, thou stout porter,
What were it best that I should do:
For woe is me, an I reach not there
Or ever the clock strike two.'
'I have a son, a lytel son;
Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's:
Give him a shilling, and eke a brown,
And he shall carry thy chattels down,
To Euston, or half over London town,
On one of the station trucks.'
Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare,
The gent, and the son of the stout porter,
Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair,
Through all the mire and muck:
'A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray:
For by two of the clock must I needs away.'
'That may hardly be,' the clerk did say,
'For indeed--the clocks have struck.'
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amarillo
(emmylou harris/rodney crowell)
My baby never was the cheatin kind
But it wasnt cause the ladies didnt try
Now everywhere we go
Theyre walkin round him slow
Givin him a flutter and a sigh
Now I got him past that redhead in atlanta
Lord I walked all over that black-eyed cajun queen
But outside of amarillo, he found his thrill, Ill tell you
Oh, I lost him to a jukebox and a pinball machine
Oh amarillo whatd you want my baby for
Oh amarillo now he wont come home no more
You done played a trick on me
Hooked him in the first degree
While he put another quarter
Push dolly and then porter
While he racks up fifty thousand on the pinball machine
If we only hadnt stopped in there for coffee
If someone hadnt played the window up above
Hed still be mine today
But he heard those fiddles play
One look and then I knew this must be love
Oh that pinball machine was in the corner
Well he saw the lights and he had to hear em ring
And he never was the same after he won his first free game
Oh I lost him to a jukebox and a pinball machine
Oh amarillo whatd you want my baby for
Oh amarillo now he wont come home no more
You done played a trick on me
Hooked him in the first degree
While he put another quarter
Push dolly and then porter
While he racks up fifty thousand on the pinball machine
Oh amarillo whatd you want my baby for
Oh amarillo now he wont come home no more
You done played a trick on me
Hooked him in the first degree
While he put another quarter
Push dolly and then porter
While he racks up fifty thousand on the pinball machine
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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40 Secondi Di Niente
Qu non c' pi calma
Settembre ci porter via con s e
Come una roccia che pende
Avremo le stesse pretese, addosso a me e te
Poi ritorna l'alba che vibra
E' solo che sei in me come una roccia
Per niente avremo le stesse difese, addosso a me e te
Topi blu ballano sull'oceano, nulla pi vero
E' pi vero
Qu non c' pi calma
Settembre ci porter via con s
Con s
Le nostre difese sfidano la follia
Che ormai non sa di niente, niente, niente, niente.....
song performed by by Verdena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A burglar who respects his art always takes his time before taking anything else.
quote by Henry Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child's Guide to Etiquette
Never put your personal spoon in the common jelly bowl.
Spread your napkin upon your lap. Do not grasp.
Eat what meat your fork can get to; the rest of the lobster must be given
up for lost.
A girl must lay her silver down while still a trifle hungry.
She must not eat unchaperoned.
A boy does not take a girl’s arm on the street. The street is no place for
devotion.
He must not allow his mother to lug the coal up or sift the ashes.
If he does, he is a cad. A boy is shiftless, a vulgar bounder. He is not
excused.
He wears a dark suit, but not in a theater box. In a box a tuxedo is worn.
In a box a boy keeps his thoughts to himself.
A girl keeps her hat on until she is seated. The theater itself wears no hat.
Snow is a hat worn by mountains, the tallest of which do not remove the
hat in summer.
Sunlight settles like a shawl upon the hills and dewy berry fields.
The sun is not a wag or hail-fellow-well-met. It does not loaf or shirk.
It keeps its face funeral-ready, as you should.
Away you go in the car. Father and Mother. Puff and Baby Sally.
Away you go into the country. Spot and Jane.
Jane is a proper girl. She avoids provincial phrases and slang, as yep and
boy friend.
She says not yes but yes, Mother, and arranges rosettes in the icing.
She wears a high-collared simple dress and tarries amid the lilac, on her
head a crown of stars.
She may stop dancing when she wishes. A boy must dance until the music
ends.
He must scold his bold friend.
A boy is clothed in a purple cloak, is brought up on charges, agrees to
them with the air of one much pleased. He raises his hat to his
father.
A girl, in the presence of her father, removes her breasts.
She removes the washbowl’s plug so the waste water drains completely.
A boy need not detach his hands, but he must not thrust them into his
pockets.
A clothes brush must be packed for the train, and a plain dressing gown.
Away you go. You are on a train. You are speaking with courtesy and
reserve in the dining car.
You are slipping off your shoes. You are leaving them for the porter.
The porter will pocket his tip discreetly.
The porter will polish your shoes in the night.
poem by Chris Forhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every day I do something that freaks me out.
quote by Gail Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tennesse Sucks
There you go
Waving your arms like a girl
Secondary clothes
Don't worry, nobody knows
Somebody order my round
'Cause I'm getting by
With a twelve pack from 12th & Porter with Billy
4:30 a.m. at night
'Cause Tennessee sucks, in the summer
What do you got that can put us under?
There goes Johnny B.
Weird and tall
He says "The band, they've got good songs,
they just don't draw"
Somebody order my round
Chances are I won't pay
Hey Brad, let's go down to The Bound'ry
Get something blue to put us out of our way
'Cause Tennessee sucks, in the summer
What do you got that can put us under?
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Deportees Club
The demo of deportee has essentially the same lyrics as this earlier version of the song
In the arrivederci roma nightclub, bar and grill
Standing in the fibreglass ruins watching time stand still
All your troubles you confess
To another faceless backless dress
Schnapps chianti porter and ouzo
Pernod vodka sambuca I love you so
Deportee
Tatty beauty talking in riddles
Rome burns down everybodys on the fiddle
Two thousand dollars for wife and some class
A thousand years drowned in a chaser glass
How I wish that she was mine
I could have been a king in six eight time
Schnapps chianti porter and ouzo
Pernod vodka sambuca I love you so
Deportee
Its a brittle charm but shes had enough
Still she wrote her number on his paper cuff
You dont know where to start or where to stop
All this pillow talk is nothing more than talking shop
When I came here tonight my pockets were overflowing
They took my return ticket without me even knowing
I pray to the saints and all the martyrs
For the secret life of frank sinatra
But none of these things have come to pass
In america the law is a piece of ass
Im a deportee
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deportee (solo Demo)
In the Arrivederci Roma nightclub, bar and grill
Standing in the fiberglass ruins watching time stand still
All your troubles you confess to another faceless, backless dress
Schnapps, chianti, porter and ouzo
Pernod, vodka, sambuca--I love you so
Deportee
There's a tatty beauty talking in riddles
Rome burns down and everybody fiddles
Deportee
But a thousand dollars won't buy you a Yank, you wife, alas
There's a thousand years of history ground in this chaser glass
And how I wish that she was mine
I could have been the King in Six Eight Time
Deportee
Oh, it's a brittle charm, but she's had enough
Still she wrote her name upon his paper cuff
And you don't where to start or where to stop
All this pillow talk is nothing more than finally talking shop
When I came here tonight my pockets were overflowing
They took my return ticket without me even knowing
Well, I pray to the saints and all the martyrs
For the secret life of Frank Sinatra
But none of these things have come to pass
In America the law is a piece of ass
Deportee
So it's Schnapps, chianti, porter and ouzo
Pernod, vodka, sambuca--I love you so
Deportee
Deportee
Poor Deportee
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's a man's world, and you men can have it.
quote by Katherine Anne Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bald is the new black!
quote by Gail Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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